Tag Archives: back to work

written by Collinus Newsome Hutt

Lord, every time I see my mother interact with my children, I laugh. It’s funny to me. Really funny.

This 69-year-old recently divorced mother of six children is my granny nanny. And she is good at it too!

I remember when I told her I was pregnant with grand girl number one. She was so happy for me. She stood by me through some of the worst nine-month, all-day sickness ever and answered all of my silly pregnancy questions (even though her last pregnancy turned up not one baby but two, 30 something years ago). After walking with me through one of the most traumatic births in the history of giving birth, my mother took one look at grand girl number one and was hooked.

Once Gracie was born, I knew my mother wasn’t going to just let “anybody” watch her grandbaby while I worked. She teased and tormented me for a while, “and don’t come asking me to baby sit.” She is currently the granny nanny to grand girl number three and complains every day about how tired she is of watching my kids and that; “I better not have any more because I am getting to old for this shit.” I don’t even listen. My kids adore their granny nanny. They do. Heck, I love her so much that I named grand girl number three after her.

What I love about my granny nanny, aka my mom, is that she is kind, compassionate and is an extension of me. She is. She doesn’t think twice about what to do, and I love that about her too. She gives grand-girls the time and attention she deserves and is great at affirming them and chiding them when she needs to as well.

When granny nanny says, “rub a little bit of castor oil on her feet and it will draw that cold outta her” I don’t say anything. I go find a store that still sells castor oil and rub it on which ever grand girl is sick and make an appointment with a doctor, just in case. When granny nanny sends me home with not the third batch of collard greens but the fifth batch, I don’t complain. She says, “them girls sho’ do love my collard greens.” And they do, fat back and all. That goes for anything granny nanny cooks…”Granny is a waaaayyy better cook than you are mom.”

So, here’s to all the granny nanny’s in the world. Because of my mother’s self-less example, when my girls start having babies, I won’t think twice about being a granny nanny. Best job in the world.

***

Collinus Newsome Hutt is the mother of three beautiful girls and the wife of one man (although she could totally be married to Denzel Washington too, no questions asked). Collinus is a committed educator and spends her time teaching pre-service teachers the ins and outs of teaching and learning. She also blogs occasionally, when she has the time, about the pitfalls of education and anything else that bothers her. You can find out what she is up to at The Great School Project.

We did not travel this year and went about our vacation week at whatever pace was fitting for that minute, hour, or day.

With that luxury of leisure time lulling us all into a hypnotic state of pure bliss, re-entry back into our normal pace of things was complete chaos.

Nobody was moving fast on Monday morning, and none of us nudged the other. It was raining a bit which seemed to set an unrealistic cadence in how we recalibrated to the reality of morning activities. We were moving way too slowly.

The TV news was on in the background and the only thing that focused our attention was GMA’s report about our small town and the alien sighting.

(Huh? When was this? Must have been during spring break when we ignored the outside world.)

Hubby was in charge of dropping the 11-year-old off because he was using the car. This meant his morning schedule was even tighter because our daughter could not arrive late for school.

I was yelling down the stairs – going over the verbal checklist – making sure she had the tools for being a productive 6th grader:

Once they were gone, I had one more hurdle to get over. This hurdle was rousing the 3-year-old from bed – which is not very fun. On this particular morning, he couldn’t get up because “he had no energy.”

Other mornings he cannot get up because he has one or a combo of the following ailments: hiccups, itchies, needs more dream time, bed is too snuggly, nighttime diaper so full he can’t move…and the list goes on. The point is my little guy is not a morning child.

I stared down at him, all cozy and sweet in his footed pajamas, and took a deep breath. I would not lose my patience (or miss my bus) during this potential showdown in getting the 3-year-old dressed. It took me about 25 minutes to get him out of the bed, PJs off, clothes on, teeth brushed, hair combed, tears wiped…and all the rest of the “but why do I have to get up today” drama – so he could be ready for preschool.

I rushed downstairs with hubby’s wallet I found in the bathroom, my laptop on one hip, the sullen 3-year-old on the other hip, and my cell phone lodged between my ear and shoulder – calling hubby to tell him to return home for his wallet.

Then I saw my mother-in-law. My face twisted up into a nonverbal WTH look.

My mother-in-law was STILL in her pajamas. Uhm, what was going on here?

Me: “So, are you taking him to preschool in your pajamas? I’m not judging, just wondering.”

Mother-in-law: “He doesn’t go back to school until Wednesday. Preschool is not in session today. I put it on the calendar”

WHAT?

I looked at my mother-in-law and busted out laughing. I didn’t even know preschool was closed and I wrestled with the 3-year-old for absolutely no reason. I could have left him sleeping in bed and had a turtle slow morning for myself.

And the calendar – the calendar I demand everyone use as the communication station to keep us all on track – I had not looked at it. My bad!

I chuckled some more, shook off my rushed energy, and went to grab my travel mug. Hubby had made my favorite tea, but left his wallet. We had an abundance of chaos going on.

My bus was coming and I hustled out the house. My mother-in-law and 3-year-old went out onto the back porch to wave to me as I stood on the bus stop. As I waved to them – after running to the bus stop and not spilling my tea – I saw hubby returning to the house for his wallet. I waved at him too.

As I relaxed on my bus ride to work, I thought about all the chaos that had transpired before 8 a.m.

I’m sure my mother-in-law thought I was a nutcase that morning. She was right and I’m just fine with that. I have other days, this week, to be on top of things – maybe.

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